


Time Trickles Like Grains of Sand

by samiraxlula



Series: Life is Like an Hourglass [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Detective Comics (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Barbara Gordon is Batgirl, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Dark Jason Todd, False Face Society, Gen, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Hates Bruce Wayne, Non-Canonical Character Death, Pre-Robin Jason Todd, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23905813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samiraxlula/pseuds/samiraxlula
Summary: Barbara Gordon was walking and Jason Todd was happy.Or that’s how things should have always been if Bruce had just snapped the clown’s neck any time around now. He'd have to start looking into fixing that once he dealt with Black Mask again (and gained some height)!
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: Life is Like an Hourglass [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723129
Comments: 19
Kudos: 218





	1. And Oh It Hurt My Pride

The sound of chattering voices drifting out of the Gotham Museum of Natural History was not within the norm for the establishment this time of the evening, however, there was currently a charity benefit dinner being held for the famine effort in Ethiopia. 

Many high-profile celebrities and socialites were making appearances at the benefit and since it was such an event, it was only natural for Gotham’s own royalty to make an appearance of their own.

“How are people even supposed to eat an a-thousand-dollar-a-plate meal?” Jason critiqued, dressed in a tuxedo with his arms crossed as he sat next to Bruce in the back seat of the Mercedes.

This would be the second time Jason had been out and presented to higher society since the previous gala last month. 

The last time had been quite the success in Jason’s book as he’d met a number of Gotham’s wealthier elite and completely charmed them over well enough.

It had felt good then not being the centre of ridicule for once and all the while knowing that Talia would have greatly approved at his display of ‘dignified’ behaviour. Even Bruce seemed a bit surprised at how quickly Jason moulded to his crowd. 

When he was mentally the same age as he physically was now, he remembered having used to try and act like the characters out of Jane Austen, being the fanboy that he was for eighteenth-century literature. 

It had also become a source of amusement for him to go from this unruly child of people’s expectations into a polite and quiet ‘man of high society,’ and leave everyone confused.

“That’s supposed to be the whole point, Jay. It’ll kill your appetite.” 

“Well, the whole thing makes me uncomfortable.” 

Speaking from the point of a once-starved child himself, Jason really had no stomach for showy events like these, especially about very real realities like these.

The evident knowledge of this fact as well made Bruce seriously look at Jason with concern in his blues. “Would you rather go back home and stay in with Alfred? I can understand if you don’t want to be here.”

Jason shook his head.

“I’m already in the monkey suit, so I might as well.”

“Always such a trooper.” Bruce gave him an amused smile that reached his eyes, accompanied by an honest laugh. 

It didn’t seem to take much for Jason to make him laugh. He didn’t realise he was such an amusing person but whatever. He didn’t care what gave Bruce the kicks and giggles.

The car door opened and the immediately following lights of the camera flashes were almost blinding enough to make Jason wince as Bruce, who had gotten out of the vehicle first, chuckled sympathetically.

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!”

Voices of various reporters and photographers called after the Wayne Enterprises CEO who had just left his luxury car with a small curly-haired child in tow, bombarding him with rapidly firing questions.

“How are the adoption proceedings going?”

“All well and good, thank you.” Brucie laughed widely enough to see his pre-molars and wrapped his arm around his soon-to-be legal child’s shoulders for the photographers to take shots of together.

_And he wondered why his kids doubted they weren’t entirely charity cases at times like these?_

Giving them a chance to take their pictures, Jason felt a sense of unease for some reason. And he doubted it was because of Vicki Vale and her bloodhoundish eyes ever on the hunt for a story.

Knowing that the feeling usually accompanied someone watching him, he turned his head back to the valet parking and further across the street.

A single car was parked there underneath a streetlight and noticing that Bruce’s eye had also caught it, he knew that it was something the Batman was going to take note of as they moved on into the museum.

Three months had passed since his kidnapping by Two-Face and annoyingly enough, his not-so-new guardian had become almost over-protective following the incident. 

Of course, that had happened in his first life too.

In fact, it had been one of the reasons why Bruce had started to teach him self-defence styles down in the cave. Well that, and a recent crime wave that had the bat vigilante concerned due to its targets. 

The only hard part for Jason was pretending like it was all new to him.

Had he mentioned that he _hated_ acting dumber than he was before?

But there was only so much ‘child prodigy’ he was able to play. And it was ‘better to play dumb than look suspicious,’ he vaguely remembered Dick telling him once on a skiing trip they went on when he was fourteen. Dick had taken a picture of them then and later told him he had it framed in his apartment.

Whether that was true or not, he never knew.

He wasn’t going to drown himself in memories of what was a very short life.

That was why Jason had chosen to mask his insidious inner thoughts and smile childishly in order not to prematurely reveal his hidden reasonings or be caught up in his emotions as he had before.

That was what had gotten him killed, after all.

“Lucius!” Brucie greeted with a wave to the president of his company.

 _To think this was the guy to off him, though._ Jason grimaced at having to witness the Brucie persona for extended lengths of time. It was an exhausting identity that was for certain.

“Bruce, how are you?” Lucius was kind enough not to make a similar face it seemed, though he did catch Jason’s look, making him only shrug in explanation as the older two made their pleasantries.

“You haven’t met Jason yet, have you?” Bruce introduced as they all got seated with the orchestra playing in the background.

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.” Extending his hand to Jason, who in his eyes shook it very maturely, smiled politely. “It’s good to meet you, Jason. Bruce has mentioned you often these past three months.”

“He has?”

“Extensively. He seems to be quite fond of you.”

_Doubtful. If he was, he wouldn’t have been so quick to replace and later murder me._

Thinking back to the breakdown he had in one of Talia’s London safehouses after she had presented him the photos of the newest Robin while checking up on his explosives lessons, Jason clenched his small fist underneath the tablecloth. 

_“Jason, I...well, I have to show you something.” She handed him a manila folder after sobering suddenly from their pleasant smiling mood. The regret in her features was evident._

_There was a loud buzzing of white noise in his ear as he took in the photos and committed all the fine details to memory, his eyes completely blank and devoid of feeling._

_“Are you going to be alright?”_

The dinner went by without much problem, Jason entertaining himself by listening to Bruce and Lucius’s quiet conversation about the recently murdered new chairman of Janus Cosmetics under the Wayne Foundation. 

His table manners were much improved by this time as he was able to quickly assimilate Alfred’s teachings. Of course, he had already seen them hundreds or thousands of times already through both him and Talia, so he had no trouble ‘re-’ learning them. 

He had even begun to secretly imitate Bruce and Alfred's gestures, so it wouldn’t have been thought strangely about for him to pick up finer manners so quickly.

However, sitting there and sipping his apple juice, there was only so much amusement to derive from listening to how the tragedy would affect their company stocks before he decided to excuse himself to go to the restroom.

“Ah, hang on, Jay. I’ll come with.”

Jason gave him a look screaming of ‘you fucking weirdo.’ “What are we, schoolgirls?”

Bruce laughed as he pushed his shoulders to move him along, Lucius turning to speak with another executive at the dinner.

But instead of heading towards the washrooms, Bruce moved down a quieter hallway with an ‘exit’ sign pointing towards an emergency door.

“You know, I actually was going to go to the bathroom.” Jason raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with the man.

“Sorry, Jay. I’ll only check on this quickly.” 

“Would you mind holding onto that?” Apologizing while handing Jason the champagne a waiter had placed into his hand but Bruce wasn’t going to drink anyway, he left Jason in the hallway as he ran out into the night. 

Blinking annoyedly at the door that swung shut, Jason stared down into the bubbling glass.

For all the trouble these past three months had been for him, he deserved a drink.

What harm would it do? No one would know with his higher tolerance levels since he’d been drinking since Ben Turner had introduced him to alcoholic beverages at sixteen.

What Jason hadn’t factored in at the time of chugging the drink down, was that he was no longer that assassin-in-training sixteen year old but a very tiny ten-year-old, who’d get wasted with a mere sip.

*

“I’d sooner knock your goofy ass out.” 

Having checked out the suspicious vehicle still yet parked outside, Bruce’s concerns were solidified as he realised that with all the members on the new board of Janus Cosmetics, specifically appointed by the Wayne foundation being offed as of late, it was only a matter of time before the Faceless Society came after Bruce Wayne.

Hearing the sound of Jason hiccuping to his giggles as he returned to the interior hallway from the emergency exit, he found the boy crouched over next to a potted plant with his fists held up like a boxer.

“Jason, are you alright?” 

The billionaire seemed quite concerned to find his ward challenging a plant to a duel.

_Hiccup._

“No. I don’t think I feel so well, actually.”

Clearing his throat before he stood up shakily, Jason managed to get on his feet only to fall back down onto the floor in an unbalanced attempt to walk.

“I almost don’t want to ask but...are you _drunk?_ ” 

“Noooo~!” Jason shook his head along with the rest of his body, curls bouncing as he looked properly scandalised by the insinuation. 

“Alfred is going to kill me. Please tell me you _didn’t_ drink my glass.”

“I can’t believe _you_ could kill me like this!” Jason rebutted before breaking out in a bawling fit, sending Bruce into a further panic sprinkled with confusion.

“ _Kill_ you—?”

Picking the boy up gently and placing his head on his shoulder before calling Alfred to bring the car around so that they could leave early, the underlying cause for Jason’s condition became even more obvious by the smell of alcohol.

“Oh, no. I think I might be a sad drunk.” Jason started to sniffle and wipe at his eyes from Bruce’ arms. “This is terrible. You’re terrible”

“Tell me about it, chum.”

By the time Alfred had pulled up with the black Benz and held the door open for father and son, he was giving the pair both a look of incredible dismay.

“I leave you alone in supervising a child and he comes back drunk. I may just need to take away your guardianship privileges, Master Wayne.”

Although the words were in humour, Alfred’s tone was anything but and subsequently made Bruce duck his head in chastisement as he got into the car, having taken off his coat to pull over the now bumbling Jason in his booster seat.

Jason sniffed at it in irritation and turned his head to look out the window.

“It seems Sionis is out for revenge with his Faceless Society back on the streets.” Bruce’s voice grew grim, although Alfred looked far more concerned with Jason’s intoxication as he pulled off the parking lot.

“So he’s back in that horrendous mask then.”

“What’s wrong with his mask?” Jason tuned back into the conversation, slurring his words somewhat.

Bruce sighed before rubbing Jason’s back as the child’s face turned a bit green even with the smoother movements of the Benz. “It’s made out of the lid of his father’s coffin. He had broken into his parent’s crypt a week ago and smashed the place with a giant rock.”

“The mask is made from the lid of his father’s coffin?” Jason’s blue eyes became as wide as saucers and hiccuped. “That is so fucking feral.”

Maybe he should make a similar fashion statement with his own helmet next time around.

“Language, Jay.” But Bruce didn’t voice further disagree either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that Bruce just finds Jason to be the funniest kid ever, even when Jason isn't even trying to be. Like, the boy just makes him laugh okay?


	2. Cutting Like a Knife

Barbara Gordon was walking and Jason Todd was happy.

Or that’s how things should have always been if Bruce had just snapped a certain clown’s neck any time around now. But of course, he couldn’t cross that line. He could never cross any line that really mattered either.

Nonetheless, Jason was rather pleased to see the redhead. Aside from surveillance photo’s Talia had gifted him of each of the ‘family members,’ the last time he’d seen her in person was before he had left for Ethiopia and she had been in a hospital bed, angry tears slipping from her eyes.

He’d visited often then. Both to get away from his adoptive father, with whom his relationship had been starting to fray and because he _needed_ to hold her hand himself.

It was awful, he knew, to need support from someone in such pain themselves then but Barbara’s shooting and Gloria’s suicide had been affirming points in his steadily forming ideology. There were just some people you couldn’t simply put away, the system being as broken as it was.

“Jason? Are you still with me?”

“Yeah. Equivalent ratios.”

“Great. I’ll read you the question again, then. According to Greg, perfect cherry pies have a ratio of two-hundred and forty cherries to three pies. How many cherries does Greg need to make nine perfect cherry pies?”

Though he did have the body of a ten-year-old, his mind was still nineteen. So a sixth grade level question was a bit too childish for him. Although in his defence he had also found it easy to grasp then at a mental ten.

“He’d need seven-hundred and twenty cherries.”

“A hundred points for one Jason Todd.” Barbara genuinely smiled as she scribbled something in her green notebook, pushing her glasses back up her freckled nose.

“I’m not sure what Bruce was even worried about for this coming school year. You’re one smart kid...even hungover.” She added mischievously, eyeing the dark shades Jason had on.

Though the curtains had been drawn to block the bright afternoon sunlight from hurting his eyes through the large bay window of the sunken living room, Jason still winced at the softer overhead lights that had been turned on. 

Drinking that glass had to be one of the worst decisions he’d made since waking up here. Including agreeing to be adopted.

“Yeah, Alfred was chewing Bruce out all last night.” Jason gave a biting grin back before raising his fingers in quotation marks and putting on a posh accent. 

“‘Of all the irresponsible actions, Master Wayne—!”

“I think I got the point, already, Jay.” Bruce’s heavy sigh entered the room along with him as he emerged from the connecting study to Barbara laughing at the both of them. “Now drink your gatorade.”

Sipping his blue hydrating drink, Jason knew that Bruce had probably been in the cave overnight again, poring over the recent murder cases over at the newly Wayne controlled Janus Cosmetics.

And since they were especially affecting his own employee’s, the Wayne head had been taking it hard.

Although, of course, this could also be attributed to the fact that it had been two months since Dick and Bruce had their huge falling out that ended with Robin’s firing. 

Jason had been in the background of this particularly explosive fight gleefully cheering it on after having pressed a few of their ‘trigger buttons’ to set it up. Not that it wouldn’t have happened without his interference anyway, of course. He just tried to make it more lasting in damage this time ‘round.

Hence, the Batman had been running solo as of late and even Jason could notice the depressing factor it had on him for all his own uncaring of his ~~not~~ -father’s condition. It was perfect but what did it matter in the end anyway?

He’d be Robin himself and on the streets in another year. _Wait...do I even want to be Robin again? Nevermind, my head hurts too much to think about that._

“Hey, B.” Jason waved from his mostly sitting position on the floor to the exhausted man. _Go fall in a hole and die. I’m too hungover to deal with you right now._

“Hello, Jason. Barbara.” Bruce nodded back to the tutor-student pair before settling in an armchair opposite to the couch Barbara had seated herself on. Jason was half-rolled out on the floor between them.

“I’m surprised you showed up. I thought Alfred had called to cancel today.” 

“Because of this mess? True, but this family is always a mess, Bruce. What’s new about that.”

Rolling out to be flat on his back, Jason thought about what Barbara said seriously.

Although he could laugh at his own and Bruce's expense over this incident, what wasn’t so funny was the fact that this was an event that had never occurred before.

From what Bruce had taught him, and Dick when he mentioned Wally, was that time-travel, if that was what this was, always had bad side-effects on the timeline to counter the changes made by the traveller.

While it wasn’t his primary care nor concern being back, he hadn’t failed to notice small differences like the thug who attempted to ‘help’ him during his ‘kidnapping.’

And he hadn’t even made any outward choices different to his younger self at that point. But this time around he had made an actual decision that he wouldn’t have otherwise.

_What problems will that bring for my plan, now?_

“—Anyway, I’m sure you’ll do great in school.” 

Barbara seemed to be directing her speech at him as she bent down to ruffle his curls before standing to leave, making Jason scowl at the ruining of his hair. 

_What was with everyone’s obsession with touching? Maintaining curls wasn’t exactly easy fun, you know._ He wasn’t just going to walk around with a frizzy puff of a mess on his head.

Picking up her book bag at the same time Alfred came in with a serving tray with coffee, none of which Jason was permitted to drink much to his chagrin, the butler seemed disappointed that the ginger’s visit was cut short.

“Ah, Miss Gordon. Leaving so soon?”

“There’s nothing to teach. You got me too smart of a kid to tutor.”

Jason couldn’t control the blood flow to his face, finding himself happy with the compliment. 

It seemed as if there were a few things he needed to make a list of when it came to the lack of control of his ten-year-old body. The crying and blushing needed to go. 

Getting emotional never brought anything good for him. He had gotten emotional when he met Sheila and became too blinded by the idea of having a living mother to notice her turning a gun on him. 

He had gotten emotional when he begged Bruce to show him that he still loved him in that apartment with the Joker and had gotten his throat slit in turn while his vision was clouded by tears.

He _couldn’t_ repeat that mistake another time.

“Well then, I hope we’re to at least be expecting you over in a week’s time for the masquerade soirée?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Dad’s tagging along as my date.”

Turning his head from the ground over to look quizzically at Bruce behind dark sunglasses, which was still pounding although more dully now, the man smiled playfully mysterious.

While Jason remembered this ball happening in his first life, he felt certain that it hadn’t been thought up this soon. Bruce had only confirmed that it was Sionis going after him yesterday. And since the masquerade had always been set up solely to entrap the fallen Janus heir, how and when was Barbara filled in on all this and the ball-in-planning?

And wasn’t she retired?

Perhaps the timeline really was smudging some smaller details. He could still work with that so long as no major landmark events changed.

“God, remember that one masquerade ball I showed up dressed like Batgirl for the first time?”

*

Up in the attic some two days later, Bruce had his sleeves rolled up to expose his scarred forearms as Jason explored the other nooks and crannies of the somewhat dusty storage.

Jason wondered over his own unblemished skin aside from a few cigarette burns, oddly starting to miss the many healed over cuts, bullet wounds and stretch marks from his rapid pit-fuelled growth spurt as he brushed away a cobweb from a locked chest.

Alfred only performed an annual cleaning of the space since it was so rarely entered and only filled with relics of Wayne’s long-passed that no one much cared about, so there was still reason to sneeze which Jason did do.

But the two were up there looking for one item in particular from Bruce’s own childhood, a masquerade costume that Thomas Wayne had apparently worn when Bruce himself was a boy. The billionaire had mentioned something about a nostalgic mood and if Jason was interested in exploring any.

“Don’t you think this idea is a bit too obvious a trap for Black Mask? He’s not an idiot.”

“And how would you know that?” Bruce raised an eyebrow curiously from where he was combing through some cardboard boxes.

“Educated guess.” Picking the lock with a hat pin he had found, Jason fiddled with the thing for a second or two before it popped open and he pushed the lid back to see what was inside.

“Be that as it may, Black Mask will still accept the invitation we sent. He’s feeling all-powerful and invincible right now, like he can accomplish anything. And that is what’s going to lead to his downfall.”

Shifting through some clothing from the late seventies, Jason picked up something that caught his interest and turned it over and around to inspect it before deciding to keep it for future use.

He wondered which long-dead Wayne wore this heavy feeling owl mask. 

“And again, I can’t come because why?”

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt, Jason.” Bruce’s expression revealed a strange sense of vulnerability that he had no business showing to someone he’d murder in nine more years time.

Turning away from Bruce to go off and explore other ends of the attic, he had only taken a few steps before Bruce made a sound as if he had found what he’d been looking for.

“Jay, come look at this.”

Pulling out a well-stored costume, Bruce seemed greatly pleased to see the cape that looked like it came out of the phantom of the opera, along with the mask that looked like genuine bat ears of the cave-dwelling mammal variety.

“It was my father’s made for a costume party.” The older man explained as he showed it off to Jason who played at being interested, having already seen this outfit in particular before though. 

“Cool.” Jason nodded with a jutting of his lip to show approval of the aesthetic. “But speaking of parties, don't you think it’s a bit over the top to host one right after you attending another just a few days ago?”

“Possibly.” Bruce winked at Jason. “But it keeps up with the ‘Brucie,’ image.” 

Jason could only snort despite himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't like how choppy this chapter felt to me, but I've been trying to post something every other day and I can feel myself slowing down, so--! 
> 
> (Also, I'm not planning a Court of Owls storyline, it was just fun for me to throw in an 'easter egg,' if you will. Even in Jason's future, they hadn't learnt of the court yet so...yeah. The mask will show up again though for funsies.)
> 
> Thomas Wayne's costume in mention is such: https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Thomas_Wayne%27s_Batman_Costume


	3. As the Days Went By

For generations, the people of Gotham City have looked to Wayne Manor as the embodiment of wealth and high society, power and prestige, and all else that was superior in the way of the world.

And this was the Manor Jason Todd was currently trapped inside.

Flipping through a book on the second floor of the library, away from the ballroom below where guests were currently milling about laviously in masks, gowns and tuxedos, the masquerade had clearly been written up as the ‘event of the season’ in it’s black and gold invitations.

The same invitation that had been delivered to Roman Sionis, who mostly answered to ‘Black Mask,’ these days after murdering his parents and completely failing his company.

But that wasn’t a concern of Jason’s. 

The whole debacle of trying to take in Sionis didn’t benefit him any in getting involved and it served to distract Bruce from paying any close attention to him and the ‘mask’ Jason had been working to maintain around him.

Turning his head to look out onto the conservatory and gardens below the library window, Jason frowned over the Odyssey as he thought back to a few days before the party up in the attic. 

_“I don’t want to see you get hurt, Jason.”_ Bruce had confessed, which made Jason tap his fingers rhythmically against the spine of his book, thinking back on it.

Yet again, he wondered over the consequences of just outright running away from the Manor and especially Bruce within it. He’d obviously get chased after by the Bat, no matter how far his experiences as a nineteen-year-old could get him.

Hell, even he wouldn’t have just let an alarmingly tiny, curly headed ten-year-old run off wherever he pleased in this city. No decent person would even with Bruce’s level of inability to nurture.

So all he could really do being stuck here was imagine Bruce's end, which did help calm his mind some.

Content to be completely on his own for a few hours since Alfred was also in the ballroom helping serve guests and keep an eye on them for Bruce, though there were a few other waiting staff employed to help out with the catering, Jason flipped the page.

Hearing voices below the window seat, it caught Jason’s attention when he realized that it was a masked Bruce in his blue and black tux with some other man down below and not a random couple who had wandered out into the garden from the conservatory, where Alfred bred flowers as a hobby.

The two seemed to be conversing with the running water of the fountain overtaking the sound of the voices, Jason taking note of the usefulness of the fountain in particular while fiddling with the owl mask kept in the pocket of his hoodie.

Being on the second floor above didn’t really allow him to hear what they were saying down below anyway, though he did watch the scene play out as the other man, who was obviously the grudging Roman Sionis behind one of those traditional masks he was famous for collecting.

He then pulled out a handgun and aimed it at Bruce’s masked face.

Now originally, Jason had absolutely no interest in interfering with this scene. But in that split-second, seeing Roman pull that gun on Bruce, something triggered in Jason. 

Bruce was his to kill. He didn’t know how much the timeline was changing around him now that he had come back as a ten-year-old and he wasn’t going to take any risks with it either. 

Sliding both the window open and the mask onto his face, Jason unthinkingly leapt down onto Roman as the gun went off, misdirecting the shot to both Bruce’s and Roman’s surprise.

_Forget the alcohol, this is now the stupidest decision I’ve made. Ten-year-old me was not someone who could jump out of second-floor libraries onto would-be shooters!_

Though he was wearing a mask, he obviously wasn’t fooling Bruce any, who looked both startled and greatly disturbed to see Jason in that moment, especially with the gun still in Sionis’s hand.

It almost reminded him of the face Bruce made when he had first found out he was under the red hood. _Good memories._

“Who the hell are you? Who the hell is this _rabid child_?” 

Roman looked incredulous at the sight of an owl-mask wearing little boy before the shouts from the standby cops came running from the ballroom inside towards the sound of a gun having fired.

 _Oh, so now the police show up._ Though the police were supposed to interfere at this point, that being the whole point of having the Commissioner in attendance, Jason still grimaced as the police got closer.

Things were not going well for him in this instant, forgetting that display contrary to his current supposed skill set.

Roman had already started running at this point, away into the rocky wooded stretch of land and far from the lights of the Manor, as the police burst onto the garden scene.

“Get the hell away from Wayne, Owl Mask.” The first cop there immediately had his gun on him. He froze for about zero point one seconds before dashing off into a sprint involuntarily.

_Wait, this isn’t what I want to do!_

While it appeared he was being mistaken for one of the Faceless society that had been running rampant in Gotham these past weeks, Jason cursed his younger self’s flight instinct as his feet hit the ground running.

Couldn’t those idiots see how short and small he was? He was obviously a child and not some member of a gang. And was he running with or after Black Mask right now?

At the very least he could then feel especially glad that Bruce would always deactivate the large metallic underground plates under the lawn that acted as giant tasers for multiple intruders whenever he would host an event.

It wouldn’t have been fun getting zapped by those.

Flashlight beams entered the wooded rocky area just beyond the grounds, Jason vaulting over the stone wall surrounding the immediate property before skidding down a slope in the ground, pressing himself to the side.

_What am I even doing right now? There’s no real reason to run._

While he could blame his childish impulse of running from cops, he supposed it could have also been the trained instinct built in after many years of being a vigilante, then assassin and finally crime lord. None of those career options had meshed well with the law.

Hearing a fallen twig crack somewhat further away presented Jason with two options.

Either _‘a’_ this was his chance to attempt running from Bruce and the Manor, useless as that might turn out to be, or _‘b’_ he could chase after Sionis and conveniently take out a future problem of his early.

While his main goal might be to kill Bruce, who said he couldn’t take out some secondary annoyances on the side?

A slow, easy smile began to grow on the child’s face.

*

Roman Sionis ran into the dark cemetery which housed the Sionis family crypt. A wind blew through the tree branches, the sound of leaves rustling accompanying his heavy breaths.

His goal in offing that arrogant Bruce Wayne who made him lose face by buying his own company as a _charitable_ move would have to be put on hold for now. The cops were still out after him and if it weren’t for that one brat _—!_

He felt as if a pair of eyes were watching him as he ran, a cold feeling chilling him through to the bone that had nothing to do with the graveyard scenery and the fact of his men lying in wait behind the tombstones.

Stumbling into the crypt which had given birth to his new identity as the Black Mask and the many faceless soldiers who followed him on the promise of wealth, he knew he needed to re-think and strategize his next move.

The sound of rushing through the grass outside was heard and was quickly followed by the screams of his men and sickening snapping sounds along with loud gunshots that echoed into the stone.

“Take him! He’s just a kid!”

Stepping further back into the crypt to await the conclusion of what was happening outside, he reloaded his gun and needed only to be patient another minute before one of his men in a rabbit mask was _thrown_ into the place.

Apparently this was done with some kind of aerial kick that smashed the man’s mask with the assailant in question swinging in from the entryway ledge.

“You again?!” Roman looked bewildered to see the child facing him again.

“ _Hiya_.” The boy grinned viciously, some blood from which he presumed to belong to his soldiers outside still on his face, making for a chilling picture with the moon catching the running crimson on him.

While his eyes could have been playing tricks on him, he could almost swear that the kid’s eyes were as unnervingly cold as any one of the seasoned hitmen he knew.

“No more playtime, alright?” The child laughed as if this whole affair was the most amusing thing on earth to him.

Firing the hand gun didn’t seem to matter any to him as he ran unflinchingly at the bullet while staring him straight in the eye, grabbing onto and pushing his arms up before slamming his knees against his chin and back kicking him.

Sionis stumbled backwards disorientedly and made a loud ‘crack’ sound when his skull hit the ebony coffin of the parents he had murdered only a month before.

A silence drew over the scene for an eerie moment.

“Glad that’s done with.” Jason tilted his head as he looked down onto the now corpse, flicking some of the blood away.

*

Having disappeared from the scene where the Faceless Society had turned on itself and killed its own leader Black Mask, Jason knew that was what the police were going to conclude with when they discovered the bodies the next morning.

And with the experience he had as the Red Hood, there were no traces of his involvement to be found even by the World’s Greatest Detective. 

He was currently sitting underneath a tree closer to the outskirts of the Wayne grounds, having backtracked and washed his face and hands of blood in one of the rivers that ran through the large property.

_From drinking alcohol to jumping out windows to killing people. That was quite the escalation in decision-making._

He knew for certain that there were to be huge ramifications for the action of single-handedly taking out the Faceless Society, especially since in his day they were _the_ underground of Gotham, having long overshadowed the traditional mafia families while he was still out of the North American continent, training.

That was bound to change the history he knew. 

For some reason, as he sat there and played with the owl mask in his hands, he couldn’t stop thinking back to after the fall of Felipe Garzonas and when the creep’s father had come back for revenge.

When the dust had settled, Batman had looked more angered than he had ever seen him as before up until that point, even behind his stony-exterior.

_“For every action in this universe, there is an opposite and equal reaction. Consequences, Robin. There's no escaping them.”_

“Watch me, old man.” Jason muttered underneath his breath as he chucked the mask as far as he could, hearing it smack against a further away tree trunk.

Feeling a familiar itch at the back of his neck, along with the twitch he got whenever someone was watching him, Jason’s eyelids moved upward to allow his eyes access to the individual hanging over him from atop the tree branch.

“No longer the baby owl, are we?” The familiar voice of a cowled redhead greeted.

“Batgirl? I thought you retired.”

“Had some trouble burning the thing. Bruce wanted to chase after you, but he couldn’t get away without making an identity-compromising scene so I volunteered to help.” 

Jason was silently grateful for both Bruce’s dual-identity crises and Barbara still keeping her suit in her car trunk.

Batgirl shrugged before landing onto the ground next to him. “Anyway, I’d hate for something to happen to my favourite student.”

“I’m your only student.” Jason deadpanned with a raise of a single brow.

“Are you sure about that?”

Jason wasn’t and it showed in his expression, making Batgirl smile and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m only teasing.”

“But that was a spunky move you pulled back there.” She motioned with her head back to the manor, where the masquerade should have been ending by now. “To think I was so easily impressed by you stealing the Batmobile’s tires. You're just one crazy kid, aren’t you?”

Jason grimaced. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you who think I was playing with that Villain/Dark Jason tagging.


	4. But I Began to Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter isn't very clear or 'flowing' in its writing. My apologies.

Batman stands at the edge, the dying wet winds of Gotham’s colder seasons snagging at his cape. Spring had come to the city, with summer directly chasing on its heels, making the days longer—and the nights louder.

The rooftop is where he finds himself again, his thoughts scattered as the rain drips onto his cowl, the droplets cold and making his cape heavy and slick with the downpour. 

It could almost be calming in a strange way as he looked over his city, boots gripping the perch. However, that would be for nought even if, as the bat never takes the time to enjoy the scenery. He has work to do, after all. 

“Alfred. Retrieve the case files from the GCPD relating to the remains of the Faceless Society. I need to do work.”

Though Alfred voices his concern through the comm lines that Bruce is not taking the time to rest, the ageing butler’s tone sounds like he has already grown too used to his advice being dismissed.

Bruce hears this. Batman ignores it.

There was always something about the rain that had irritated him in a low, background sort of way. As a child, he had once found comfort in the steady tap, tap, tapping against the glass window panes of his boyhood bedroom.

But now, as both an adult and a parent, he no longer could find solace in such simple things. After all, the rain continued to fall on murderers and madmen the same it did on innocent children. This was a fact that bothered him.

Leaping off of the edge with a ‘poof’ of a compressed air powered grapple gun, the vigilante thinks about the latest child to enter his home.

It had only been a few blocks and a couple of alleys away where he’d first met his second son, on what he considered to be the worst day of his thirty-some years of life. 

A small child with a tire iron would smack him with it to get rid of this idea, making him laugh in a place he had screamed his heart and soul out some few decades ago.

Just as he took off to glide, he quickly descended with a thud onto a rooftop, his cape slowing his descent. The hidden batmobile lay parked just below with its canopy sliding open upon a touch of a remote from his belt.

In the first month of Jason’s living at the manor, with his wariness of everything and one around him, it had been difficult for the boy to begin talking casually with him, even once he had gotten over the economic culture shock of having abundant amounts of food and other ‘luxuries.’

Then something seemed to change around the end of the month in Jason and he seemed to suddenly grow more comfortable in his new setting.

Comfortable enough to let down the grown-up mask he had put up to protect himself as a child in the East End and allow some emotions to show. They weren’t all pleasant ones and some of them scared Bruce in a way he couldn’t fully describe.

He could understand to a degree the eating until he made himself vomit, which happened the first few days, the sleeping on the floor instead of the bed and insisting that Bruce wanted _something_ from him because “good people don’t exist.”

But there were also _later_ moments when he had caught Jason staring face blank and eyes hard into nothing while clutching his neck and rocking himself. Another when he flinched at sudden physical contact. 

It all made Bruce hate whatever could have caused a child such trauma.

Which is why it wasn’t surprising the child didn’t trust anyone, even running when the police chased him down at the masquerade, mistaking him for one of the Faceless Society, although he clearly wasn’t. But for his first reaction to run even when he had done nothing wrong… 

Bruce always knew that police brutality and corruption were rampant in Gotham and he’d witnessed how homeless children were treated in his career as the Batman, but the point was driven home when his own ward’s first instinct was to run from law enforcement. 

The batmobile roared through the waterfall entrance from the tree-camouflaged service road and into the Batcave.

Jumping out of the batmobile, a light clang sound bouncing off the cave walls from where his boots hit the parking ramp, the Dark Knight noticed that Alfred was absent from the cave, though he had left the paper copies of the case files atop the computer station as well as the electronic files open on the screens for him.

When Jason had become his legal ward, despite all the skittishness and suspiciousness with his ‘supposed’ goodwill toward him, he had still been so excited to have him and even more so when he agreed to be adopted. 

Bruce had sat him down after getting him back from Two-Face and had a long talk about how he didn’t have to accept if he wasn’t comfortable but he did care about him and wanted to be his dad.

Gotham’s dark knight was seen smiling often those few days afterwards.

Oddly enough though, Bruce hadn’t even wanted to be a father in the very beginning of his mission. He’d been too obsessive with his time focused on becoming the Batman and starting his ‘night-career.’ 

While he loved his first son without a question of doubt, by the time he had stopped long enough to really appreciate the boy, he had already grown into a man and it would become one of his many regrets throughout his life.

Jason offered a second chance to be a father. Where he wouldn’t have to compete with a deceased better parent, because Willis hadn’t been one and Jason didn’t hold any love for him anyway.

He had a child that was solely his.

Turning his head towards the spare Robin uniform that was still kept in the cave even though he knew from keeping tabs on his eldest that Dick had taken on a new identity with the Titans, Batman made a small thoughtful noise.

Shedding his own uniform and slipping into a white tee and sweats, Bruce headed up the stone steps and through the clock entrance.

In a Manor as large as the Wayne estate, it took more than a few minutes to make his way up the grand staircase and into the family wing, passing by the empty unused bedrooms to stop in front of one door that had been used often as of recent.

Pushing open the boy’s bedroom door quietly, the light from the hallway sneaking in to illuminate the sleeping figure, Bruce couldn’t help but feel a warm fondness grow inside at the sight.

He allowed himself to watch the small chest rise and fall for a few moments, the head of curly hair peeking out from underneath the covers atop the pillow.

Jason shifted a bit and mumbled something in his sleep before settling into a soft smile, content with whatever he was dreaming about. 

Bruce was glad himself that it wasn’t one of his many nightmares this time.

It felt odd to think that Jason had only been in his life for three months at this point. Just like with Dick, even though he never went looking for these children, they always seemed to find _him_ and become so etched into his heart that it seemed like they were always a part of his life. Even _before_ he’d met them.

Closing the door behind him, he found Alfred coming down the hallway from up the servant’s staircase with some folded linens.

“Checking up on young Master Jason again, sir? He’s still sleeping as soundly as before you left.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

Alfred rolled his eyes fondly at the man he helped raise. “Alas, it seems Gotham’s avenging Dark Knight is going soft on us.”

“You’re hilarious, Alf.”

“I realize, Master Bruce.”

As the man and butler pair walked further away down the hall together to keep their voices from waking Jason, Alfred commented on his presence upstairs this ‘early’ in the night.

“I take it something’s on your mind since you’re not working on the case files you requested?” 

“Hm…” Bruce seemed to debate bringing up the issue for a minute before he gave in. Who else would he talk to other than Alfred about it? Dick was quite clear he never wanted to see or speak to him again.

“Alfred, what would you think about Jason learning more than just self-defence?”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred seemed dismayed with the very notion. “You make it sound as though you wish to have young Master Jason as your new partner.”

“Not anytime before _months_ of training. Besides, I haven’t even approached the idea with Jason himself yet.”

“While being costumed vigilantes may have helped both you and Master Dick deal with your own personal traumas, I do not believe the same will be of aid in battling Master Jason’s own demons. Besides, he is but a child.”

“The child is a lot older than both of us, Alfred.”

“Perhaps that is so, sir. Though the fact itself is quite distressing to think of in its reason.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next:
> 
> “Did you ever...really think of me as your son?”  
> “I don’t understand. Dad…”  
> “Don’t...die yet, okay?”


End file.
